


Tinnitus

by GoofyGodTier (johnfightmelaurens)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Car Accidents, Deaf Character, Deaf John, Established Relationship, Hospitalization, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:52:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnfightmelaurens/pseuds/GoofyGodTier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="small"></span><br/><i><b>tinnitus (n):</b> the medical term for "hearing" noises in your ears when there is no outside source of the sounds, typically buzzing or ringing.</i><br/> </p><p>Your name is John Egbert and god why won’t that ringing in your ears stop.</p><p>It takes you a moment and you realize, you aren’t home. You’re in a strange bed under strange sheets and in strange clothes. It takes you another moment to realize you’re in a hospital. You groan, but maybe you actually didn’t because nothing is coming from your throat. No sound is reaching your ears. You try to go louder and there’s just ringing.</p><p>(Tags will change or be added as is necessary.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tinnitus

_**tinnitus (n):** the medical term for "hearing" noises in your ears when there is no outside source of the sounds, typically buzzing or ringing._

Your name is John Egbert and god why won’t that ringing in your ears stop.

It takes you a moment and you realize, you aren’t home. You’re in a strange bed under strange sheets and in strange clothes. It takes you another moment to realize you’re in a hospital. You groan, but maybe you actually didn’t because nothing is coming from your throat. No sound is reaching your ears. You try to go louder and there’s just ringing. Desperately you try to sit up and demand a doctor, flinching and trying to shout when a hand is on your shoulder. You hadn’t realized anyone else was in the room. They should have spoken up!

You turn towards the owner of the hand, surprised to see Dave there and in tears. He looks like he’s talking, but all you hear is ringing. Constant ringing. When will it go away?

You must look downright baffled because his entire expression drops and he stops trying to talk. God you hated seeing Dave like this, but he was much more emotional than he ever let on. And you suppose seeing your boyfriend in a hospital bed looking at you like he can’t understand a word you’re saying doesn’t help the situation much.

You try to ask to see a doctor, but again you don’t hear anything but the stupid ringing in your ears. God, why won’t it go away! You just want to be able to hear something!

Dave seems to have heard you because he presses a button and a nurse comes in, offering you both a smile and saying something you of fucking course can’t hear. You glance at Dave in hopes of being able to figure it out, but Dave’s lips just keep moving and you have no idea what he could possibly be saying.

You just watch them talk, Dave seeming pretty upset and the nurse looking like she’s trying to calm him down. Why are neither of them paying attention to you? You’re the one who’s in the fucking hospital bed and with the constant ringing in his ears! Obviously something happened, even if you don’t remember it completely, at all? Who knows! You can’t remember! 

You just remember- Oh. You remember what happened before you left the apartment you and Dave shared.

You two were fighting, shouting, screaming. Your voice was so much louder than it should have been and Dave’s voice was so angry. You frown, remembering what you were fighting over.

Time. You were fighting over time. As college kids with part time jobs and heavy workloads, you never had time for each other it seemed and he’d been getting upset by that. He was upset by how long ago you two had had sex and how long it had been since you two had just had a night out. 

How long it had been since you had told him you loved him.

You had immediately flipped out, having come from your biology class that was hard as dicks with more group work than should have been legal in that setting and a hard day of work at Winco, working with stubborn customers who didn’t seem to understand that no, only the margarine was on sale, not the butter too. You were stressed out and Dave was just being a fucking asshole.

The two of you blew up, screaming happened and you two even shoved each other a couple of times until you stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door as loud as you fucking could. You climbed into your shitty little Camry that had been a graduation present from your dad and started to make your way to a friend’s house or something, you weren’t sure at the time, driving too fast on rain soaked roads.

You remember now what it was that really landed you here: a car wreck. You fucking totalled your car because you were upset and the road was unforgiving. You don’t think you hit anyone, the last thing you saw was a large pole, but you really did fuck yourself up.

You look to Dave, trying to desperately remember what the last thing was you heard fall from his lips. The last words that were thrown at you in anger. It takes a moment, but you finally round them up. 

“Fuck you, John Egbert! I just wanted to be important for once!”

Those words sting. You hope to god that your hearing comes back soon and that the ringing in your ears stops long enough that you can replace those words with better ones. Dave saying he loves you, your dad saying he’s proud of you, gentle utterances of kindness on the streets. You sigh a little, fighting back the tears Dave’s last words brought up. You lean back in the bed, shutting your eyes for a moment as you try to will your hearing back and for the ringing to stop.

After a moment, Dave rests his hand on your shoulder and you blink up at him. He offers a little smile and weak wave. You can’t help but notice how red his eyes are beneath his shades due to the close proximity. He tries to talk, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. You try to talk. You don’t know how the words are coming out, but you’re trying.

“I can’t hear you.”

His face falls again and god damn it, you wish he had a better poker face, the one he had bragged about in middle and high school, because this is just heartbreaking. He shuts his eyes for a moment before fumbling around the room. A nurse taps his shoulder and passes him a handheld whiteboard and marker. He gives her a little smile and nods. 

He quickly writes something on the board before showing it to you.

‘how are you feeling’

“Confused,” you try to say, the ringing in your ears drowning out any possible sound whatsoever. It hurt that you couldn’t hear Dave’s voice, but your own? That was the hardest part.

He nods a little and quickly erases the whiteboard with his arm. He writes something new and shows it to you.

‘are you in any pain’

You think about that question for a moment. Pain… You had never thought too much about what pain was. It was unpleasant. An indication that something was wrong. It was bad. But could pain also translate to the unwelcome ringing in your ears? Or the ache in your chest caused by your last conversation? Probably, but that can’t be what Dave is asking of you.

“Yes, everything aches,” you say, the absence of your own voice echoing in your head made that hard and you note to yourself that you’ll have to learn sign language or something because you can’t just talk and wonder what the fuck you’re actually saying or if it’s loud enough or what. It makes you uncomfortable.

He nods and is quickly scribbling out another inquiry for you to answer.

‘want anything to eat maybe more pain killers i can do my best to get you whatever you want man’

You just shake your head, not wanting to try your voice again. It’s too much uncertainty to have within a brief exchange. You’ll get your own whiteboard until you actually know sign language. That’ll work.

He shuffles to erase more and then write more. 

‘im sorry about what i said’

You shake your head and offer him a smile. You hope that’s enough to tell him that you don’t hold it against him and that you do want to work through the problems that have been popping up in your relationship.

He frantically erases the board and writes something new. 

‘the doctor will be in in a minute have any questions youre dying to ask’

You nod and reach for the board and marker from him. He raises an eyebrow, probably wondering why you’re not talking anymore. You just were and you don’t blame him. But you can’t trust yourself to speak up anymore. You’ll shout, you just know it, and your words will slur together.

He passes the board to you after erasing it quickly. You take the uncapped pen from him and scribble something out. Dozens of questions pop into your head, but only one stands out as needs to be answered.

‘when will i get to hear again?’

You watch Dave read it and he meets your eyes before he nods. He looks sad and you hope to god it’s just because his boyfriend is in a hospital bed and not because he knows something that you don’t.

He nods and takes the whiteboard and pen from you as the doctor comes in. He turns and the two of them start talking. You don’t know what about or how it’s going, but you do feel left out. The silence that is only interrupted by that fucking ringing in your ears is overpowering and you can’t help but feel lost.

You shift your gaze to the window, looking outside. It was bright outside so it must be morning and the clouds from the rain were gone. You smile a little, hoping that that was some kind of sign of good things to come.

You’re interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, the doctor offering you a small smile when you turn to him. She’s holding up a new whiteboard, different from the one Dave had. In scrawling script, you see the basis of your diagnosis.

‘I’m Sorry To Inform You, John, That Due To The Severity Of Your Car Accident You Have Gone Permanently Deaf. It Is A Tragedy, But You Do Have Options. A Cochlear Implant Will Help, But It Won’t Make You Hear Again. The Hospital And I Would Be Honored To Help Connect You With A Support Group And A Sign Language Course For You And Your Boyfriend.’

You don’t know how she fit all that onto a tiny as shit whiteboard, but you do know that two words stick out at you: Permanently Deaf.

You can’t help but remember the last words you heard from Dave again.

“Fuck you, John Egbert! I just wanted to be important for once!”

You hear them echoing in your head, stinging as they repeat over and over and over again.

They sting even more because it’s starting to dawn on you that you will never hear again. That those will be the last words you ever hear from him. You lean back in the shitty hospital bed and try to think that through. You’ll never hear Dave’s voice again, never hear the sound of rain thrumming against the roof and window again, never hear the rush of wind when a sudden gust throws itself against doors and random pedestrians. You’ll never hear your dad say he’s proud of you or even talk on the phone with him. There’s so many things you’ll never hear again and that… That hurts.

The thing that hurts the most though is that you will never get to hear Dave say “I love you.” ever again.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks and you feel the rest of your body aching more than before. Those must be from the accident. You don’t know how bad it is, but you don’t care. You just care that you can’t hear anything come from your boyfriend’s mouth. You can’t hear comforting words to tell you that it’s okay. You can’t hear anything. 

You jump a little when there’s a hand on your shoulder and you look up to meet the eyes of whomever it belongs to. You see Dave, giving you a sad smile before he leans down to wipe your tears away. You adjust yourself, glancing at the doctor and making grabby hands for the whiteboard that Dave took from you not too long ago. 

He passes it to you and you ignore the tears that are falling from your eyes. You fumble a little to uncap the pen, but you get it open. You think for a moment before writing on the board. You don’t ask questions like “What happened?” or “What’s wrong with my hearing exactly?” because in all honesty, that doesn’t mean anything to you. Knowing why you’re fucked up won’t make being fucked up any easier.

You eventually figure out what you want to ask. 

‘how much longer do i have to stay here?’

The doctor gives you a small smile and erases her own board.

‘In About A Week. We Want To Run A Few More Tests To Make Sure There Wasn’t Any Damage We Missed And Make Sure You Know Basic Sign Before We Send You Home. We Want To Send You Home When There Is As Little Maintenance You Need To Perform Yourself As Possible.’

You nod and erase your board. 

‘will dave be allowed to stay with me?’

She smiles at you and glances at Dave, who looks a little confused because he hasn’t read your board. He’s been standing near the door, watching it for some reason.

You quickly erase your board to maintain the mystery.

She looks back to you and writes a quick reply.

‘Management Would Say No, But I Can Do My Best To Keep Him Undiscovered.’

You smile and nod your thanks.

‘I Have To Go Now, But I’ll Be Back In A Little Bit To Check On A Few Of Your Injuries.’

She then goes to leave, passing off the board and marker to Dave as she goes. Dave is a little confused but doesn’t say anything. He stays by the door and you watch him curiously, scrawling something on your board. 

‘what are you doing?’

You clap your hands in hopes of getting his attention and works so you hold up the whiteboard. He nods a little and writes a response on his. 

‘waiting for someone dont worry babe its alright im holding down the fort no baddies coming in here i mean i got this shit on lockdown’

You can’t help but laugh softly. He’s still his rambling self and that brings comfort to you. He’s still cracking jokes and being Dave, even though you’re here and have lost your hearing forever.

You start to doze off again and it’s not a big deal. Hospitals are designed for sleep, you tell yourself. You lay in beds all day, never take off pajamas, hell it’s the most interesting thing to do ninety percent of the time. 

It’s not until Dave taps your shoulder that you even realize that you were asleep for an extended period of time. You look up at him, your eyes asking what’s up.

He smiles and holds up a whiteboard.

‘you have a visitor take a look’

You look to the door and soon enough a familiar white fedora is strolling in. Your father is here and has a smile on his face. You’re a little shocked, your dad hates Seattle because he hates traffic so he’s sparse on visits and he was just here last weekend. You don’t quite understand why he’s here.

It’s almost like you forgot you were in the hospital.

He takes a seat beside your bed and looks to Dave, saying something. Based on how Dave hands over the whiteboard and marker, you assume it was something like “David, would you please hand me the whiteboard and marker? I want to talk to my son.”

He quickly writes something out and shows it to you. 

‘HELLO SON. IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU. HOW ARE YOU FEELING?’

You smile a little, seeing his handwriting. It was always sort of comforting as a kid.

‘i’m alright. just kind of achy and stuff. not being able to hear sucks, but the doctor said they’d hook me up with an asl class and support group.’

He nods, frantically erasing his board with his nice white work shirt.

‘OH GOOD. WHEN DO YOU GET TO GO HOME?’

‘she said in a week. they’re going to teach me basic asl and run a few more tests and let me heal up a little more before they send me on my merry way.’

He gives you a smile and Dave reads that message, flashing you a concerned look and pointing to himself. You know what he’s asking so you quickly erase the board and write a response directed towards Dave.

‘she said that she’d smuggle you in.’

He grins and gives you a thumbs up before you turn your attention back to your father and his whiteboard.

‘ARE YOU GOING TO BE OKAY? MENTALLY? LOSING YOUR HEARING IS HARD.’

You give him a nod and write a response.

‘yeah sure. i mean, i’ll have a support group and through them i can probably find a deaf-friendly therapist if i need one.’

He gives you a little smile.

‘I’M SO PROUD OF YOU SON.’

Reading those words instead of hearing them hurts and you wonder if it is really going to be okay. You don’t know. Maybe you’ll never be able to get over not being able to hear such key phrases from important people and that’s almost as scary as never being able to hear them again. You just wish that… That this was reversible.

You eventually think of the next thing you want to ask them.

‘are you guys going to learn asl with me?’

You’re scared they’ll say no, but god you fucking hope they say yes because if they don’t, then there’s no point in you learning it either. You’ll be better equipped to be carrying a whiteboard and pen around for the rest of your life if they refuse and suddenly you’re fucking pissed at the idea that they won’t do this for you. Even though they’re already doing so much to be there for you with this accident… God now you just feel like shit for expecting even more from them.

Your self-hatred tirade ends when your dad holds up the whiteboard with two sets of handwriting: Dave’s and his own.

‘OF COURSE, SON.’ and ‘duh’ are written there.

You quickly scribble out a reply.

‘thanks. i owe you guys one.’

Your dad scribbles out a message and Dave seems to object and add his own to the board before they show you.

‘NO, SON. IT’S SOMETHING WE WANT TO DO FOR YOU.’ is written above ‘plus dude we will have our own little secret messaging system itll be so tight we could totally talk in theaters and shit without getting shooshed’

You notice that where the ‘we’ your dad wrote is, that there’s a smear in the background and what appears to have been an ‘I’ there before. Dave made him change it. That makes you smile. God you love both of them so much. The two most influential people in your life (though maybe Dave and Mr. Lanzo from third grade are a pretty close tie in all honesty) are making an effort to learn with you, instead of leaving you out to dry. From the looks of it, Dave isn’t leaving you and your dad’s not going to stop being your dad just because you can’t hear.

That in and of itself leaves you with a feeling of serenity that you can’t shake off.

‘i’m tired. would it be alright with you guys if i went to sleep?’

You watch your dad scribble out a response.

‘OF COURSE. I MAY NOT BE HERE WHEN YOU WAKE UP AGAIN SO JUST KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU, SON. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU.’

Once you see your dad’s message, Dave’s takes a hold of the board and marker, scribbling out a response as well. 

‘yeah man dont worry ill be here until they kick me out not gonna leave you hanging’

You smile and nod at the two of them, setting the whiteboard to the side before settling into the hospital bed to fall asleep. Sleep comes easily and you’re grateful. Maybe it’s because your body just needs the sleep to heal or maybe it’s because you can still hear in your dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

_**sorrow (n):** a feeling of deep distress caused by loss, disappointment, or other misfortune suffered by oneself or others._

Your name is Dave Strider and maybe Mr. Egbert will be a good distraction from the idea that your boyfriend, his son, will never hear again.

Once the two of you are pretty sure that John is asleep, he turns to you, the whiteboard nestled in his lap. You’re leaning against one of the walls near the bed, looking over John as he sleeps. You don’t want to meet Mr. Egbert’s eyes. A small part of you thinks he’ll pin the blame on you and you don’t know if that’s completely fair, but you do know that you can’t handle that kind of guilt at the moment.

“David,” he says quietly and god damn it, how many times have you told him that Dave isn’t short for anything. Your name is just Dave. You turn your head to face him. “I… I want to know about the circumstances of the accident.”

You’re a little surprised that he doesn’t know already, but it’s not like you told him yet and the entire time he was talking with John, you were monitoring the conversation and it never came up.

“Oh uh, well, you see, Mr. Egbert,” you start to ramble, trying to find the right words as you do so. “He came home from class or work or maybe even both, just shows you how much I pay attention, but he came home and was exhausted… I… I was upset because it seemed like he had forgotten our dinner plans, which I’m pretty sure he did in my defense, and I started to get on his case because of how little time he ever made for me, and god you don’t want to hear about all this shit, huh? You probably just want to hear that he was going too fast on a wet road and hit a lamppost.”

You look to John, hopefully it makes you look romantic or sensitive or some shit, but you just want to avoid Mr. Egbert’s eye contact. You know he’s staring at you and you just wish you could shake the feeling of his eyes off of you.

“David,” he says quietly and you glance to him. He’s giving you a soft smile. “I want to hear the whole story. Including the lovers’ squabble you two had. Now go on.” He gives you a reassuring nod and you continue.

“So uh, I was getting on his case and we just got louder and louder, maybe we pushed each other I don’t know, but I remember the last thing I shouted at him before he stormed out of the house… He had just finished ranting about how hard his college classes were and I… I said ‘Fuck you, John Egbert! I just wanted to be important for once!’ and that… That fucking broke him. He stormed out, slamming the door and the last thing I remember before the hospital called me was… Was how fucking useless I felt when I fell onto the couch and started to cry.”

You finish the story and look to Mr. Egbert again for approval. You hope to god that he’s not angry with you. You really do. You would rather be covered in a million pounds of smuppet ass than have this man be angry with you.

He gives you a small smile and nod. “Ah, I see. I got the same call because John is still on my insurance, but I couldn’t get here till this morning so I passed off the responsibility to you. I hope I did the right thing?”

You frown for just a second before you realize what he’s saying. John’s on his dad’s health insurance and probably will be until he’s twenty-five, that you already knew, but you didn’t realize that the reason you even got a call was because of what Mr. Egbert did. That makes you smile a little. 

“Uh, yeah… I think he looked relieved to see me when he woke up,” you say with the tiniest of smiles. Hopefully that answer works for him. You hope that you’ve proven yourself. Because of your brother and what he does for a living, he’s always been wary of you. Maybe he thought you were a sexual predator or at least all kinds of fucked up because your brother runs a puppet porno business. 

Maybe hoping that just this one act of pure compassion and sorrow is enough to get him off your back is ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from trudging forward with the “impossible”.

He returns your small smile and reaches forward, taking his son’s hand in his for a moment. “I think John’s going to be very confused for a very long time. When he wakes up, I’m want to give him the option of moving back home with me so that way he can take a break from his studies and work while he recovers. You’re welcome to join him as well, David.”

You look back to John’s sleeping face, looking over his cracked glasses. The doctor said that they got in contact with his eye doctor and had ordered him a replacement pair that would be there soon.

“If he agrees to it, I’ll go. But I have a totally serious question that I hope you don’t mind because guess what, it’s about me and your son being sexually active,” you say, immediately finding yourself blushing. You don’t dare look to John’s dad because you know that it’ll throw you off.

“Ah, what is it, David?”

“Well, if we do move back in with you and all that jazz, what are the uh, rules about consummation in your blessed home?” you ask, still not meeting his gaze. “I mean, it probably won’t happen for a while if at all because when John’s stressed or overwhelmed the last thing he wants to do is whip it out and ram it in, but just in case, I don’t want to like fuck it up in your house, literally, and have you kick us out or something just because I didn’t ask such an awkward question now.”

You still didn’t look at Mr. Egbert, still terrified of how he’s going to think of you for asking such a question. You just asked him if you could fuck your boyfriend in his house. If you could shag his son. If you could do his little boy. If you could do the frickle frackle with his champ.

You’re surprised when he chuckles. 

“Just don’t break anything and clean up when you’re done. Also, lock the door and try to stay quiet, I don’t want to walk in on anything or believe that someone is being murdered in my home. I understand that you two are both consenting adults and I don’t want to infringe on any steps you two must take to fix your relationship seeing as there are some things you two do need to iron out.”

You’re even more surprised by that answer than you are by how nonchalant he seems to be about the fact that his son is sexually active. Not to mention sexually active with a guy who said “whip it out and ram it in” like that’s all there was to sex and you know for a fact that’s not true, if there’s one thing Bro was good for it was providing inclusive sex ed where the school system failed and had his own whole unit on the importance of lube. Not to mention you’ve had nightmares of his “Professor Bro” outfit on more than one occasion.

“I, well,” you start to say but quickly stop yourself and pause. Think your sentences through, Strider. There’s no reason to ramble absentmindedly at John’s father after he just gave you permission to fuck in his house like holy shit, the man is a god. If you had to give him a title he’d be like Baker of Cake or like Dad of Cool or something like that. Yeah, okay. Time to stop thinking that much into it, like seriously. Time to actually say a well formulated thought.

“Thanks, Mr. Egbert. You the man.”

What the everloving fuck was that?

Okay doesn’t matter because Mr. Egbert is laughing and you know that that is sort of a big deal with his son laying beside him in the hospital bed. It’s hard to see anyone in that position, but it’s even harder if it’s your own son. Offspring. Spawn. Okay Dave, we get it. You’re good with synonyms and when you’re nervous or stressed they don’t stop coming, but now is not the time.

“Oh my, David,” he tells you with a smile, pulling his hat off of his head and resting it in his lap so he can run his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. He looks older than you remember, but that is also likely to be due to his son being in the hospital and deaf.

You can’t believe you just reminded yourself of the fact, god damn it. You are the worst thing ever when it comes to your own peace of mind. 

“Oh lord, I haven’t been called the man since John was in middle school and he thought it was hip,” he says and looks to his son with a smile. You smile a little as well, affording the father of your boyfriend the rare opportunity to see the Strider Smile™. You don’t think he’s ever seen you really smiling. To be fair you haven’t been doing it much anymore; your stressful life at home with your boyfriend has made it harder than usual. Plus you kind of have a shit job at a record store where honestly everyone that comes in is a pretentious douche wanting to show how indie and cool they are. You had thought it would be a fun job, and it is when you actually talk music with customers, not how unknown a shitty band is.

“Yeah, he never really knew what was very cool, you know? That’s why he became friends with me. A guy like him’s only hope to be cool is a Strider, fun fact and so it’s totally good that I got to him at his lowest point in uncoolness because then he rose like a phoenix out of the ashes of ‘the man’ and became the dorky whatever he is. He’ll never be Strider-tier cool though. He’s not ironic enough.”

Mr. Egbert doesn’t even try to pretend that he understood what you just said to him, he simply laughs and gets to his feet, resting his hat on his son’s stomach as he sleeps. “Ah, David,” he murmurs, patting you on your back lightly. It’s very much a dad move and you can’t help but give him a smile. You never had a dad like him. John’s lucky to have him and well, you sort of are too by extension. Like a father in law deal but the law isn’t involved. Maybe it’s more fitting to call him your father in. Take the law out of it completely. “I must be getting home for the night. I’m going to work on prepping my home for you and my son’s eventual arrival. I’ll try to come by tomorrow to say hi and tell John about the situation. Not to mention I have to pick up my hat.”

He gives you a small wink as he gathers his stuff up, purposefully leaving his hat resting on John’s stomach. He looks bare without it. He hands the whiteboard and marker over to you and spends a moment just looking a little frazzled and confused before ultimately pulling you in for a hug, which surprises you. Mr. Egbert is not one to hug, especially you. He’ll hug John but your boyfriend is the only person you’ve ever seen him show any affection for, which sorta makes sense you guess but still. This hug is a surprising one and you hardly have time to wrap your head around it before he’s pulling away and giving a wave as he steps out the door.

With that, you’re left alone with John and so you take a seat beside the hospital bed, finding his hand and gently rubbing at his knuckles. He’s cut up, bruised, and bandaged just about everywhere else, but his hands have so little damage to them that it’s a miracle. This makes you smile as you lift his limp hand to your lips and kiss each knuckle and finger tip. 

You love his hands and the music that he can play with them, the piano is something he’s always impressed you with. 

Your heartbreaks that he may never play again and that the old piano the two of you found on craigslist that’s sitting in your apartment may be simply be sold off and found a better home.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this became a multi chapter deal it was supposed to only be a one shot but here we are. I hope you enjoy it and I need to start making sure I know enough sign language so I can keep this going.  
> Either way, yes hello this is a new fic and you can find me on tumblr [here](http://theheirjohnegbert.tumblr.com).
> 
> See you guys later!


End file.
